Refusal To Harm
by Hathor-Aroha
Summary: No matter how much Hotep and Huy try to persuade him, Rameses will never harm his brother whether that be direct or indirect. Even as Moses brings down plague after plague on Egypt, Rameses will not hurt Moses, the man he had once called brother. (Rated T for mentions of torture, execration (magical cursing), and discussion of execution.)


**Refusal to Harm**

Egypt had been under siege from the plagues for days now, and even the priests had been brought to their breaking point. Boils, lice, frogs, and flies they could take, but the livestock death was the last straw. With the death of the livestock came the demise of the sacred Apis bull who represented the god Osiris. Normally, when the Apis bull passed away, Egypt would undergo a seventy-day mourning period, but the current circumstances ensured its delay.

It was on the day of the livestock death that the two high priests came muttering into the throne room of Pharaoh Rameses. They huffed and puffed not just from lack of breath, but also great frustration at the apparent reluctance of their king to do anything about the perpetrator of the plagues. If only he would do something to "convince" Moses or, even better, get rid of him all together.

Well, maybe _today _they would convince their king—after all, even Rameses had to understand the significance of the loss of an Apis bull and the diminished likelihood of finding another to replace it. Perhaps now he would understand the need to get rid of—if not "convince"—Moses somehow.

Now they collapsed before Pharaoh's throne, bowing before him in complete reverence and respect.

"Pharaoh, we wish to advise you," Hotep began, "And you must listen to us!"

Huy nodded in eager agreement. "He's right—Egypt cannot last much longer with Moses bringing forth such destruction on the land."

"Egypt is under great strife, Rameses—you _must _do something about Moses—you must take the decisive step!"

"Before Egypt is in ruins." Huy added.

"We have a few things we could suggest—"

"As we have in the past—"

Rameses' frown deepened, lines of annoyance wrinkling the bridge of his nose as he glowered at his priests.

_Are they trying to persuade me to execute Moses again?!_

Stiffening in his chair, Rameses brought up a hand in a silent command for the priests to stop their persuasions.

"Be still!" Rameses interrupted from his throne. "Pharaoh speaks!"

Standing up, Rameses towered over the priests, and here at the top of the dais leading up to the throne, he was colossal in height compared to them. The gold of his regalia glowed in the light of the raining fireballs outside. Firelight flickered in the black eyes set deep in the cobra's head that was his uraeus. The blue scarab ring on Rameses' finger flared almost orange as it caught the light of fire.

"I have told you before," Rameses said, voice echoing off the columns in the room, "And I will tell you again: I will _not _demand the torture or execution of Moses. I have told you two days in a row, and I now weary of your persistence!"

Hotep held up his hands to stem Rameses' words. "Your Majesty, we can command it on your behalf."

"Have you already forgotten my words, Hotep?" Rameses asked incredulously, "I won't command it myself or through anyone."

"We advise against it," Huy argued, "Refusing to stop Moses is harming—not helping—Egypt."

Hotep nodded his agreement. "He's right."

"You don't want to because you still think he's your brother." Huy reminded with a pitiful shake of his head. "Your Majesty, he is no more your brother than he is ours."

Rameses' grip tightened on his crook and flail. "He is still a brother to me, even if not in blood."

"If he were any other man, you would order his torture or execution at once," Hotep reasoned, "Huy does have a point, Your Majesty."

Rameses had to admit that Hotep and Huy were both right on how he felt toward Moses. He might not have been born of Queen Tuya's womb, but they had spent eighteen years of their lives as inseparable brothers and the best of friends. Eighteen years of friendship did not just go away nor turn its face from the implication of hurting someone once treasured. He hated what Moses brought upon Egypt, how he betrayed his old home and family for an unknown god and the slaves Rameses considered no better than dirt.

_I still won't hurt him. He has betrayed me, his own brother, turned away, but I won't command his…torture. _

Rameses closed his eyes, greeted by the unpleasant image of Moses tied to a post as he was beaten with a stick or had his wrists and ankles twisted in order to persuade him to surrender. When the "questioning" or "persuading" ended, perpetrators were often then left in agony with sprained ankles and wrists, or a back throbbing with angry red welts and darkening bruises. Rameses tried not to imagine the screams of pain from such trauma. He opened his eyes, not trusting them to hold them closed for longer than a single blink.

_I won't let anyone harm him. _

"I already told you before that I will never order Moses' execution, whether by…any of the methods available to implement on criminals."

He couldn't bring himself to voice the terrifying ways a criminal could be killed, lest his imagination fire up too vivid again. Executing Moses via drowning, impaling, or burning would all be just as terrible on Rameses' heart, particularly as sometimes it took three days for impaled offenders to die. That would not happen to his brother if he could help it.

"We no longer would have this scourge," Hotep reasoned, "Your father Seti would have dispatched him long ago."

"I am not my father!" Rameses snapped, knuckles white as he clenched his fists around the crook and flail, "And he is no longer here to dispatch—as you say—Moses. You forget that my word as the Morning and Evening Star is the ultimate law."

Huy nodded earnestly, "Of course, Your Majesty, your word _is _final. It doesn't mean it's an _advisable _word."

Hotep cleared his throat, "And we are advising you now on this. Seti has trusted us as his advisers and priests in the past, and so have you up till now."

"As long as you keep suggesting advice on how to hurt Moses, I will not listen to you."

Huy narrowed his eyes up at the king, squinting at him in clear disapproval.

"I command that you do not speak of such things again," Rameses continued, glaring at both priests, "And I forbid you take it into your own hands."

The priests fell silent, exchanging glances with each other, their eyes flickering to the king and back. Hotep cleared his throat a little too forcibly.

"Of course we wouldn't _ourselves_," Hotep began, "But we have, as you say, taken it into our own hands."

Rameses froze, glaring at his priests as their words sunk in. His heart pounded in his ears, face hot with growing anger. His teeth ground and chest heaved in anger.

_They have disobeyed my orders!_

"You _what?_"

Huy's hands fumbled over his robes, as though trying to look for something. His face shone with sweat, his nervousness palpable even from where Pharaoh stood quaking with unhidden rage.

"Not _directly_," Hotep emphasized, "But with magic."

Right on cue, a small, blackened, waxen figurine tumbled out of Huy's robes, clattering to the floor at the bottom of the steps leading to the throne.

"Ah," was all Huy said.

Huy began to bend down to pick up the figurine, but Pharaoh got there first, scooping it up with one hand to take a closer look, scrutinizing its face—the face of Moses.

"You do this _without telling me?_" Rameses thundered, throwing the effigy at the priests, "You conduct _harmful magic _against my brother behind my back?!"

"It was the only other way," Hotep said coldly, eyes never leaving the pharaoh's glare, "You resisted our advice, and we as priests know _other _ways to harm a man."

"Or woman," Huy added, "or child."

"Just because you know it doesn't mean you can do it!" Rameses shouted.

"You have had us burn effigies in the past—"

"I _gave _you permission! I did not give you permission to do _this!_" Pharaoh jabbed a finger downwards at the blackened figurine, "I command you to stop this execration at once!"

"He is only a Hebrew!" Hotep argued, his temper getting the better of him now. "He is a foreigner! And a _dangerous _foreigner at that!"

"He committed a _crime_," Huy added, "It is the highest offense for a foreigner to kill an Egyptian."

"And I have pardoned him of it," Rameses cut in, voice just as cold, "I will make an exception for Moses."

"What, even after all _this_?" Hotep pointed out at the hail of fire raining down on Egypt, burning anyone unfortunate enough to be outside.

"Yes," Rameses confirmed, not looking at the fireballs, eyes trained on his priests, "Even after all of this."

Shaking from his fury, Rameses sank back in his chair, dumping his crook and flail on one of the armrests. He leaned an elbow on an armrest, massaging a temple with his index and middle fingers, closing his eyes.

"Tell me _nothing _but the absolute truth," he told them, "how long has this execration been going on?"

"Since yesterday, Your Grace," Hotep said promptly.

"Are there any more execration figurines?"

"Um…no, no, of course not." Huy blathered.

Rameses' cold gaze flickered to him.

"Well…yes, there are more of these."

Long fingers clenched the sides of the armrests. "Then I command you to rid yourselves of these execration figures. I will investigate your temple tomorrow, and the gods help me if I see even _one._ Understood?"

The priests' lips thinned, betraying their disapproval. As powerful as they were, even they could not neglect to heed the god-king's warnings should he find they had not thrown out the figurines as commanded.

"Your word is law," Huy conceded, "It does not mean we agree."

"No, but you will not ignore my heeding, Hotep, Huy," Rameses warned, "I will refuse to allow harm on Moses in any way—even with magical spells."

The priests raised their hands in surrender.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Hotep surrendered.

"And don't think you can do this in secret," Rameses continued, "I _will _find out!"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Huy said, "We will go at once."

"Dismissed, both of you," Rameses waved a hand at them, "Get out of my sight!"

Aware the king's anger still burned in his heart, the priests bowed and made a hasty retreat with their burnt waxen figure of Moses. No sooner had the doors slammed behind them, then Rameses smacked the armrests of his throne with his fists.

_I don't believe them! _

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the cool headrest, trying to ignore the screams of citizens caught in the hail of burning ice, and his heart squeezed in his chest as he recognized the cry of a child in agony coming from outside. No doubt some innocent Egyptian child had ended up being hit by the hail, catching his kilt on fire. A bird flying for its life outside screeched as its feathers were caught alight by a flurry of fiery hail. It wheeled and flapped before nose-diving to earth, falling out of sight.

Rameses stood up, stomping down the steps to take a closer look at the devastation outside. The warmth from the flames and falling balls of fiery death wafted around the columns, sticking to Rameses' skin. Black clouds burning a dull amber blocked the sun and its light. The glow of the sky and earth now came from fire falling all over Egypt. Flames roared as they engulfed entire marketplaces, set alight whole neighborhoods, and trapped livestock and people in a circle of inescapable flames.

Beyond the shimmering, hazy veil of smoke and fire, Rameses spotted a silent figure watching him intently. Red and gold robes billowed and flapped in the high wind, his face only just recognizable from where Rameses stood. Of course he was immune to his own scourges—why wouldn't he be? He would never be touched by the fiery hail, just as he had been free of festering boils.

Seeing him standing there so calm amidst the burning hail only served to infuriate Rameses that much more, his teeth set on edge at the sight of the shepherd.

_Why do you hate me so? _Rameses demanded, _what have I done to cause this suffering? _

Still, even this latest scourge on Egypt was not enough for Rameses to seek harm on Moses himself. No matter what happened, Moses was still his brother—eighteen years of brotherhood didn't just go away in the blink of an eye. It could not be cast aside like a used scrap of papyrus. Eighteen years was eighteen years of memories, both good and bad, and they couldn't be erased so easily.

_You may hate me, _he silently relayed to Moses so far in the distance, _But I will _not _allow you to be harmed by magic or torture, nor will I allow your execution. You scorn me as your brother, but I will refuse to harm you, no matter what you bring upon the lands of Upper and Lower Egypt._


End file.
